


5 Times Race and Albert Said "I Love You" and 1 Time They Couldn't

by buttons_n_bose



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Break Up, Canon Era, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gay Newsies, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Unrequited, Unrequited Albert/Race, ralbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttons_n_bose/pseuds/buttons_n_bose
Summary: ....exactly what it sounds like





	1. 5 Times Race and Albert Said "I Love You"

I

Neither of them realized how much they truly meant it the first time. It was after they’d started the strike, after the newsboys had been attacked and Crutchie was taken away. Jack was nowhere to be seen, and most of the group had sought refuge in places the cops, Delanceys and Snyder would never find them.

Race had made his way to Jacobi’s. The owner had opened the door, shocked at the injured, panting boy at his front stoop. He helped Race to a chair and hurried to the kitchen for ice.

Albert ran in as best he could with his bruised ankle, eyes widening as he took in the blond boy crumpled over the back of a chair.

“Shit, Race.” Albert placed his finger under Race’s chin, tilting his face up to look at him. “Youse okay?”

Race opened his eyes slowly, a smirk tugging at his bleeding lip at the sight of his best friend. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Never better.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

Albert sat on the chair beside him as Jacobi came in with a bag of ice. Race refused his help, insisting that he could do it himself. The older man left the bag of ice on the table, gave the two boys a concerned look, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Albert grabbed the bag and gingerly placed it on Race’s eye.

Race hissed, ducking away. “Is youse tryna make it worse?”

“I’m tryna help ya.”

There was a pause as they glared at each other, neither backing down. After a few moments, Race leaned forwards again, allowing Albert to ice his black eye.

“Al?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Neither of them knew just how much quite yet.

II

“How is there a bet if neither of youse has any money?” Finch questioned.

“We’s not bettin’ money,” said Race. “We’s bettin’ secrets.”

“Secrets?”

“Yeah.” Albert nodded. “Y’know, loser’s gotta tell somethin’.”

“Tell me howsit goes,” said Finch, taking his papers from the Delancey’s and heading for his selling spot.

At the end of the day, Race and Albert compared their sales. Albert swore as his number came up just short of Race’s.

“Alright, spill.” Race grinned triumphantly. “Youse gotta tell me a secret. Make it good.”

“Alright, alright, gimme a minute.” Albert ran a hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling for inspiration. It had to be good, something that Race wouldn’t expect, and not something insignificant that would cause Race to insist he tell another secret.

His gaze wandered to Race, who was leaning against the doorframe of the lodgehouse, twirling his cigar. Albert’s heart leapt at the smirk on the taller boy’s face, one eyebrow raised and eyes sparkling boyishly. There was one secret Race would never expect to hear, one that would certainly take the cake.

“I love youse.”

Race’s cheeks flushed with a hint of pink. “I love you, too, Al.”

“No, no, I...” Albert took a deep breath. “I love you. Like, how Jack and Davey loves each otha.”

“Good.” Race wrapped his lanky arms around Albert. “‘Cause I love youse like that, too.”

III

Race and Albert were considered an “item” after that. They were already best friends to begin with, spending most of their waking hours together already, so their new relationship didn’t change much. They acted closer, that’s all: lingering embraces whenever they felt like it, stolen kisses behind the lodgehouse, comforting cuddles before bed.

It was shortly after two in the morning. They’d fallen asleep together on Albert’s bunk, Albert on his back and Race using his shoulder as a pillow.

But it was one of those nights, a night where Race’s dreams took him from the safety of Albert’s arms to the horrors of the refuge. Memories flashed through his mind, the tiny bunks, the injured children, the feeling of hope disappearing out the crack in the broken window.

When Race awoke in a cold sweat, shivering and panting, Albert stirred beside him. His eyes opened lazily, taking in Race sitting up, hunched over with his head in his hands.

“You okay?” Albert asked, his voice not quite there.

“Yeah,” Race lied, running his fingers through his golden hair before bringing down his hands. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nice try.” Albert sat up beside his boyfriend, nudging him gently with his shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Was it one of them nightmares?”

“Uh-huh.”

Albert paused. “The refuge?”

Race didn’t speak, simply nodding his head in response.

Albert stayed silent, taking Race’s hand in his. Race’s fingers were longer, but Albert’s hand was bigger, their hands fitting together in the strangest, yet most perfect way.

“You’s never goin’ back there,” Albert promised. “I won’t letcha.”

“What, youse gonna fight the bulls on your own if they come after me?”

“Damn right.” Albert raised their clasped hands to his lips, kissing the back of Race’s. “You’s mine now, Racer.”

Race smiled at that, a short exhale of amusement escaping him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They sat a few moments more, until their eyelids were heavy. They lay down again, Race curling up against Albert’s body. Albert put his arm around Race’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and kissed the top of his head. They listened to their soft, synchronized breaths until, finally, they fell back asleep.

IV

They never had money. They were newsboys - where were they supposed to get the money from? Money they made went towards food and the next day’s papers.

Albert saved up his money. He bought less papers than usual (sure, he sold less, but he also spent less and didn’t have to carry extra ones around) and even ate a little less. It wasn’t the smartest decision, but he’d always heard that love made people do stupid things.

He asked Race around noon. The sun was directly above them, hot and bright and uncomfortable. They stood in the shade of an alleyway, leaning against the wall. Race was smoking his cigar - something he never did, because he only had a few, and they were getting harder to steal.

Albert pulled the bills he had saved from his pocket. “Lunch on me?”

Race turned to him, eyebrow raised and his cigar held between his teeth. “Where’d ya get the dough?”

“Stole it,” Albert joked. “Nah, I saved. I’m very smart, y’know.”

Race laughed. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“So, ya hungry, or what?”

“Always.” Race snubbed his cigar against the wall, leaving ash stains on the brick. “An’ youse payin’, so I guess I can eats for real. Maybe I’ll even get a Seltzer.”

“Whoa there, big spender. I ain’t rich.”

“Not yet, you ain’t. Just you wait. Youse gonna be bigger than Pulitzer one day, I knows it.”

“Yeah?” Albert slipped his hand into Race’s, entwining their fingers, and started to lead him to Jacobi’s for lunch. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Even more if I get a Seltzer.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

V

“So...that’s it.”

Albert couldn’t look up. He knew what would happen if he met Race’s eyes: they would both break down. All of it, everything they’d built together, would fall. At least this way it could still be standing, even if it was unstable.

“Yeah.” Albert croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay.” Race took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Okay.”

They sat next to each other on a park bench, but they weren’t facing each other and there was at least a foot of space between them. Their time had come. It was over.

“For th’record,” said Race, “I still love you.”

“I knows.” Albert tried for a smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no kiss goodbye that time. They embraced, quickly and tearlessly, before parting ways. They wouldn’t speak for awhile. They both needed time to think, to cry, to heal, to move on. While they would eventually rekindle their friendship, the dying flame of their relationship would always glow faintly in the back of their minds.


	2. ...and 1 Time They Couldn't

Race moved on first. Not quickly, not by any means, but first. The boys started having their suspicions when Race looked for any excuse to visit Brooklyn: passing on messages and checking on sales. He started tagging along with Jack to meetings between the leaders - something Jack had been trying to get him to do but never could.

Race and Spot were eventually official. They helped bridge any gaps between Manhattan and Brooklyn. They brought out the best in each other, Spot giving Race the confidence he needed to finally recover from his past, and Race bringing Spot’s softer side to light.

Albert didn’t care, not really. At least, that’s what he told himself. Race and Spot would hold hands under the table at meetings, would disappear to Brooklyn after a long day of hocking papers, would kiss under the lamppost before parting ways. Things Race used to do with Albert.

But it was fine, Albert told himself. He didn’t love Race anymore, and Race certainly didn’t love him. They were back to being friends - not best friends, but friends. There was always an elephant in the room, an elephant they thought they could coax away with inside jokes and familiar smiles.

It was late at night, maybe one in the morning. Albert had gone for a walk, unable to sleep and not wanting to stay inside. He finally made his way back to the lodge house, only to find Race sitting hunched over on the steps.

“Race?” Albert stood over him. “Are youse okay?”

“Mhm.”

But it was a lie, and Albert knew that. “Okay,” he said, sitting next to him.

Race looked up just enough glance at his friend. “Youse don’t gotta stay. You should sleep.”

“‘Kay.” But he stayed.

They swapped small smiles and sat together in silence. Not touching, not moving, not speaking. The silence was familiar and comforting, and said everything they were too afraid to say aloud.

“If I sleeps, I sees the refuge again,” Race admitted.

“I thought-“ _I thought Spot helped you with that._ “I thought that stopped.”

“Not always.” Race shrugged. “It’s who I is.”

“That’s okay. Davey says we all gots our demons.”

Race laughed a little. “That’s somethin’ Davey’d say.”

“I thinks he stole it from a book.”

“Oh, for sure.”

They fell into another comfortable silence. Albert made a joke about one of the lamplighters who walked by, and Race laughed and added to it. Soon enough, they were chatting like old friends, referencing old jokes and talking as easily as though their past had never happened.

Maybe an hour had passed before they went back inside. They said goodnight before climbing into their separate bunks, both of them half-asleep.

“Albie?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Tonight.”

“Anytime. I love—“ He caught himself just in time. “I loves talkin’ at night.”

“Me, too.”

Albert wondered if Race knew what he had almost said. He wondered if he almost said it back.

The answer was “yes” to both, but neither of them spoke about it again.


End file.
